


Faster

by thecattydddy



Category: Marvel, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 15:51:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11489658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecattydddy/pseuds/thecattydddy
Summary: Death can always take the things that mean the most to you; This is a lesson Tommy knowsall too well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written for a prompt on my roleplay blog, _[apprcnticesuprcmc](http://apprcnticesuprcmc.tumblr.com)_. It's developed a bit from there to now have several chapters and I decided to just post it here, finally. There may be further installments in the future, but they will probably be few and far between.
> 
> Special shout out to [notpietro](http://notpietro.tumblr.com) and [imanavenger](http://imanavenger.tumblr.com/), since they were a lot of my inspiration behind Tommy and Clint, respectively.

Even before Billy hit the ground, Tommy was there, holding him up. It seemed anticlimactic, for all his power, to go bleeding out in a dirty cell on an alien ship.

He didn’t know how they’d ended up here. One second the brothers had been giving the Wrecker a run for his money purely for something to kill their boredom and the next they were waking up on the floor of some holding cell, their abilities somehow negated by the field around it. Billy, with his big mouth and attitude, had had some choice words with the guards, going so far as to reach out and pull the guy’s head into the metal when he got close enough. It didn’t knock him out, but it gave him a headache and a nasty bruise. They hadn’t liked that, apparently, because suddenly they were muttering something about “Only needing one of the brats, anyway,” and shoving their way into the small space.

One of them knocked Tommy off his feet, crushing his face into the dirt with a boot to the back of his head, just enough to hold him there. Someone grabbed Billy by his hair, pulling his head back and making him yelp in pain. He instinctively reached out for his powers, but found them blocked, just out of reach. Those few seconds had been precious and he’d wasted them, leaving the guard to shove something sharp through his back, hitting a major artery on his way through before pulling the jagged instrument back out. Billy reach up to try and stop the bleeding through the front of his costume, his fingers turning red in a matter of seconds. The guards made quick work of leaving after that and Tommy looked about ready to follow them, but he was cut short by the raspy sound of his brother’s voice. “T-tommy?”

So here he was, leaning heavily onto his twins frame, one of Tommy’s hands pressed over his wound as well and gently lowering them both to the ground. He vaguely noted that the speedster was babbling desperately and Billy weakly grabbed on his arm to interrupt him.

“You’ve gotta figure out what’s going on here,” he stated, giving his brother a serious look. “Figure out a way to get out- Or contact someone who can help.”

“ _W_ _e,_ ” Tommy corrected, instantly. “ _W_ _e’ve_ gotta figure out a way to-”

“Don’t be an-,” Billy interjected, only to be cut short by his own watery gasp, “-Idiot. I’m bleeding out really badly here, Tommy, and they’re not coming back with medical supplies s-soon.”

“Don’t-” Tommy tried again.

“ _L_ _isten_ ,” Billy shot back, “You gotta get out of here. Whatever they’re planning to do is probably… Probably _way_ worse than- Than us dying. Get any information you can and then get back to the Avengers… They’ll be able to stop it.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” Tommy insisted. Billy shifted, as if to give his brother an idea of how _serious_ he was, but it only caused a sharp pain to strike through his nerves and the fight drained out of him. He whimpered softly, leaning more heavily into his brother. Tommy was chattering some form of encouragement, but Billy mostly ignored it, sliding his fingers off of his injury and around his brother. Tommy made a strangled noise of objection, putting his hands in place to replace it, but didn’t push Billy away which he was grateful for.

He managed to chuckle, though it was laced with discomfort. “If I’d thought all it took to get a hug from you was dying, I’d have tried it sooner.”

“Shut up. You’re _not_ dying.”

He’d lost quite a bit of blood at this point, the substance pooling on the ground around them and covering their suits. He was starting to get tired, having trouble focusing on anything in particular. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

“The _hell_ you are!” Tommy growled back, bringing one bloody hand up to force Billy to look at him through half-lidded eyes. This was definitely big brother mode if he ever saw it and it brought a tiny touch of a smile to Billy’s face. “If you close your eyes I swear you’re gonna get your _ass kicked_ , do you hear me?”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Billy snarked back, just above a whisper. It took a lot for him to force just that much. His expression fell into something a little more sad after that. If this was really it – If he was really going out this way - then there was something he wanted to say. “Tommy… I… love you.”

Tommy cringed at the statement, as if Billy had somehow insulted him. “Don’t do this.”

“Say it back… Please?” Billy pleaded, his fingers loosely digging into the fabric of Tommy’s suit. “I promise, I wont… Tell… Tell anyone… Just this one time.”

“Don’t _do this_ ,” Tommy repeated, this time with a more desperate trill in his voice. Billy looked a little heartbroken, but resigned.

“It’s… It’s o-” He gasped, his throat constricting and his thoughts getting jumbled, but he pushed through. This was _important_. “ _O_ _kay_. I… know… know you _do_. You don’t have…”

He trailed off, barely able to keep his eyes open at this point and not really able to see at all. Tommy was definitely close to crying by now, though. He could tell by the way his body shook, practically begging to be let free. “Billy, I–”

The witch let his lids fall shut. He was just so _tired_. If he slept, the pain would stop. It would just be for a few seconds. Tommy couldn’t possibly object to just a few…

“I–”

His grip faded, the weight of Billy finally slumping onto him entirely. The irony is a _speedster_ being _too late_ didn’t miss him, but he was too preoccupied with the body held against him for much thought to be spent on that. The tears finally letting loose. He shook the other, lightly, as if it would rouse him, once again. “Billy? _B_ _illy_? Hey, I love you, too! I love you too, okay? I said it so just– Just– Please… Don’t… Be…”


	2. Chapter 2

Tommy had not expected the arrow to come out of nowhere, whizzing directly into his path. Reaching out and grabbing it was no issue, but the action caused him to momentarily stop, assessing the area for some kind of attacker. It didn’t take long for him to spot Clint a couple yards away and leveling him with a blank look, bow slung over his shoulder and arms crossed. He didn’t say anything yet, waiting for the speedster to speak.

“What’s the idea? Are you _trying_ to get me killed?” Tommy demanded, waving the arrow at him, scowl set heavily onto his features. Briefly, Clint was reminded of a time where the boy’s uncle had done something similar, berating the archer for firing an arrow at his sister, only to learn that the arrow in question was completely harmless - Not to mention he’d known Pietro would be there in a second to save her from any apparent danger. This was different than that, though. Tommy may have Quicksilver’s powers, but they were not the same. Pietro had always had a quick, impulsive anger that came in short, emotional bursts. In contrast to that, Tommy’s was steely and merciless, building progressively out of sight until the fake smiles and self-deprecating jokes were no longer an effective barrier and the storm inside sought to level whatever had wronged him most. That was not just the anger of a speedster.

That was his mother’s _rage_.

“Nope,” Clint answered, simply. “You’re doing a fine job of that, all by yourself. When’s the last time you ate?”

Tommy’s expression melted into slight confusion, gently running his fingers over the tip of the arrow still in his hand. There was a little bit of apprehension in his tone, as if he expected this was a trick of some kind. “I dunno.”

Clint just moved straight on into the next question. “How long you been running on this track for?”

“I need to get faster,” Tommy said, as if that magically explained away anything else that might be asked of him.

“That wasn’t the question,” Clint pointed out. They stared at one another for a while, waiting for the other to bend. Eventually, the archer did, but not the way Tommy would have liked. “You’re done in here for now. There are divots we have to fill else someone is going to trip and get hurt.”

“I can manage,” Tommy argued, a little defensively. He did not take kindly to being told what to do like that.

“What? You’re the only person allowed to use the track, now?” Clint questioned, a brow raised. Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, again. There was another tense moment before he resigned, moving towards the other in a robotic manner.

“Fine… Whatever.”

Clint didn’t say anything as he approached, and it wasn’t until they had left the training room behind entirely that he put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, enough to pause him in his tracks, but easily to escape if Tommy found he didn’t like it. His words when he finally spoke gave to a command, but his tone to a request. “Come with me?”

As they walked, Clint led him with a hand on the small of Tommy’s back, guiding him to the kitchen and pushing him into seat at the breakfast bar when they got there. Neither said anything of it. Tommy still held tightly onto the arrow he’d plucked out of the air earlier, holding it against his front like a shield.

Clint started small as he pulled the food out for the speedster, passing him a fork and two boxes of Chinese take-out for the kid and one for himself. They didn’t talk and Clint kept his eyes trained on his own box. Tommy found himself eating once it was in front of him - Old habits die hard, it seems – But there was something lethargic about his movements when he used to get excited about even the smallest hint of food. When Tommy got through the first two boxes, Clint passed him the one he’d barely touched and went to go get himself something else.

Four boxes of Chinese and half a pizza later, Tommy felt a little more aware and the headache he’d been sporting all day eased up a little. Somehow Clint must have noticed this, because he finally said something as the better part of a plate of pizza rolls was slid across the table. “It is not your fault, Speed.”

Tommy glanced up at him, at least four pizza rolls shoved in his mouth so that he looked like a slightly distressed chipmunk. Clint remained neutral at this, though he had the mind to know he would find the look amusing in any other situation.

“Your brother,” he clarified. “It’s not your fault.”

Tommy managed to swallow his food without choking on it by some miracle. He spoke, but there was a slight hitch in the words. “Yes, it is.”

He still remembered when the kid had stumbled into Avenger’s Mansion at the time, looking closer to starved than not and unable to stop the slight vibrating that left him blurred around the edges. There was tears in his suit, a crack in his goofy little orange goggles and at least one burn on his right arm that was likely the result of being grazed by the blast from some kind of laser gun. He’d been absolutely covered in blood, the red patches staining his costume and stuck under his fingernails. His eyes were hollow and there were tear tracks imprinted on his cheeks.

“No,“ Clint countered. “It’s not.”

Another silence. The food remained untouched in front of Tommy and Clint resisted the urge to tell him to keep eating. Finally Tommy continued the conversation, though he looked at odds with himself over the decision. “I held him in my arms… As he was dying… I f-felt him- It should have been-”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Clint interrupted, sternly. Tommy looked dubiously at him. “There’s no reason why either of your lives are more valuable than the other, Kid. You dying in his place would have done nothing.”

“He would be alive, right now.”

“Do _you_ feel very alive, right now?”

The speedster gave no response, but that was really answer enough. For how recently it’d been since the boys had met each other, it had always struck many as odd that they had become so close so quickly. Billy had been insisting they were family from day one and they’d only grown closer after that. They’d become like one soul, trapped in two separate bodies; And if the rumors were true about how they had come to be in the first place, that might have not been far from the reality.

“He told me he loved me… Before he died,” Tommy said, drawing Clint’s attention, once again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” Somehow Tommy found the ability to make his expression crumble further, dampness pricking at the corner of his eyes. “He asked me to say it back.”

“Did you?”

Tommy took a jagged breath, his hands vibrating at the memory. “N-no… I c-couldn’t… He said he knew b-but–”

“Kid…” Clint reached across the table, placing his hand over the speedster’s.

“H-he died and he didn’t even– Even know– ‘Cause I couldn’t–” Tommy’s resolve finally fell away and he found himself crying all over the pizza rolls still sitting untouched in front of him. Clint wasted no time in getting to the other side of the bar and pulling the boy in, letting Tommy soak the front of his shirt and babble to fast to be understood.

“Spe- _T_ _ommy_. Tommy, he _knew_ ,” Clint insisted, one of his hands coming up to stroke the other’s hair. A lot of Tommy’s past made him wiser beyond his years, stripping him of that innocence of childhood, but in this moment it was easy to remember he was not much more than a boy; Lost and desperately in need of _help_.

“ _H_ _-how?_ ” Tommy managed to choke out in the middle of his high-speed lamenting.

“Because sometimes there are other ways to say you love someone,” murmured into the top of the boy’s head. “And when it came to your brother, you were a frequent-flyer for all of them.”


	3. Chapter 3

There’s nothing quite like the rush of cool air when a speedster flies past you, kicking up dirt and any loose papers that happen to be nearby. It’s a unique sensation, one that brings with it a flurry of emotions that are often difficult to describe or hold down for very long; Not unlike the speedsters themselves. When Clint reaches out and grasps one of them in his fingers, he recognizes the swell of _pride_ before it slips between away like sand and returns to the whirlwind of feelings that his boys always seem to stir up in their wake.

“Speed.” The old man’s voice crackled over his earpiece and he glanced slightly over his shoulder at the archer he’d just passed. Clint had a neutral expression on his face, seemingly not even paying attention to him. “Four goons to your right. Take out the ones closest to you and herd the rest this way. Watch your footing – The ground is looser over there.”

The speedster gave a clipped nod before taking to his feet, again. The first two toppled like dominos, landing on their faces with satisfying grunts and a few choice expletives. The other two went running away from the arc he’d made to cut them off, headed back the way he’d originated from. Two arrows zipped through the air and that ended their retreat pretty effectively, though. With those idiots down for the count, Tommy made quick work of wrapping them up, finding himself a spare line of rope and ending up with a wiggling mass of unhappy campers. He capped the red marker he’d found as well, admiring the doodles all over their faces with a sly smile.

The ground crunched as Clint came up beside him, Tommy looking to the archer as he studied the job. His body screamed nonchalant, but his eyes twinkled with question and Clint couldn’t believe how _endearing_ it really was. He settled a hand in Tommy’s hair, ruffling up the messy locks further and replying with a gruff. “Nice touch.”

“You think Cap’ll like it?” Tommy wondered, his lip quirking upward a touch at the display of affection and approval, but he quickly layered it with cockiness.

“Oh yeah. Gonna be speechless over this beauty,” Clint assured, a soft puff of breath as the only outward sign of amusement, but Tommy was quick enough to catch and his smile spread farther across his cheeks. The archer reached for his earpiece, pressing a button to communicate with the rest of the team. “We’re just about wrapped up over here. What’s your status, Hawkeye?”

There was a brief pause before Kate’s voice cracked back. “Same for us. The Captain and I are headed your way. Also, He says that, as the leader of this mission, you should be reporting to him.”

“He heard it, didn’t he?” Clint inquired, turning his eyes towards Tommy. They shared an eye roll and some silent laughter.

“Yeah, he did.”

“That’s what I thought. See you soon, _Hawkeye_.”

“Sure thing, _Hawkeye_.”

Clint lowered his hand, turning off his communicator before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a protein bar and holding it out in Tommy’s direction.

“What the hell is that?” Tommy demanded, his gaze darting down to the item before flicking back to Clint’s face with a freshly acquired scowl.

“You know damn well what it is,” Clint returned, cooly.

“I told you to stop carrying food around for me,” Tommy huffed, but quickly snatched up the bar and ripping into the packaging to get to the goods inside. Clint had a second one ready for him when he wolfed down the first.

“And I told you that you ain’t the boss of me,” Clint retorted, his hands settling on his hips once Tommy grabbed the second bar as well. Tommy made a defiant ‘ _Tch_ ’ sound, but Clint could spot the slight sparkle of gratitude in his eyes and knew he’d made the right choice with this kid.

Their moment, however sweet, was interrupted by the sudden sound of a gun firing. The speedster was moving in a second, pulling Clint out of harm’s way with a velocity that probably could easily have given him whiplash. The bullets that’d been aimed their way moments before had hit the dirt beside them in a neat little line just to the left from where they now stood.

“We missed one,” Clint noted, reaching behind him for one of the arrows strapped to his back. Tommy was already several feet away by the time his fingers closed around it, headed blindly into the fray as usual. Clint gave a soft huff of disapproval, narrowing his eyes and focusing on lining up his arrow. “Speed, watch your-”

As Clint spoke, Tommy shifting focus to the archer, his foot failed to find a grip when it landed. He wiped out, skidding a few inches and getting the wind knocked out of him. He would have just gotten back up and zipped back into action in a second, but something heavy pressed against his head, holding him in place with the distinct imprint of a boot etched into it.

One moment, Tommy is staring at Clint across an open patch of dirt, the next he’s barely breathing in anything but the dust kicked up from the ground with Billy fighting off some alien freaks. The glint of a knife cut sharply through his vision and he let out a gasping, watery objection that was garbled by the build-up of _panic_ in his throat.

“We only need one of them, anyways...” The speedster tried to reach out to his speed, hoping to dislodge the adversary keeping him pinned down, but it was like a numb limb – Still there but unable to be moved no matter how much he willed it. Any amount of wiggling just made them press him more forcefully into the dirt. Particles filled his mouth, causing him to cough and gag in reflex. There was a tearful yelp from his brother as they pulled his head back, exposing his too pale neck. Briefly, he saw that blue spark over his brother’s eyes and, for a second, he had hope that Billy was gonna kick their sorry asses. They’d learned they’d messed with the wrong--

The spark flashed out of existence with a frightful whimper, Billy’s eyes widening comically and his mouth falling open with a wet gasp. The coppery taste of blood hit him so quickly and with such an intense _focus_ that he might as well have been _drowning_ in it. He heard the deafening mantra in his ear, screaming at him to _do something_.

_They’re gonna kill him! They’re gonna_ _**kill** _ _him!_

Clint saw the kid go down, spinning out slightly in a display that might have been comical if it didn’t end up putting him right in harm’s way. He expected Tommy to pull himself back up and return to the fight so he could make fun of him a little for the wipe out, but then the asshole that’d shot at them planted his foot firmly on the speedster’s skull, forcing him to eat the dirt. Tommy squirmed under the other, but he couldn’t seem to remove himself from beneath it. Clint was starting to wonder why he didn’t just speed himself out of the tight spot when he caught sight of the glassed over look in the kid’s eyes and an understanding he _really_ wished he didn’t have to have clicked into place.

“Ah shit,” the archer mumbled under his breath, locking his arrow into place and letting it fly at his target before reaching for a second. “ _Ahshit, ahshit, ahshit..._ ”

The arrow hit the shooter’s shoulder, throwing off the other’s aim and sending him stumbling back a few steps so that he was no longer holding the kid’s face into the ground. A second immediately tangled up in his legs and the third caught him in a net that sent him spiraling onto his back. Clint reached the shooter just in time to step on his fingers, causing the guy to yelp out in pain and release his hold on his gun. Kicking it several feet away, he made quick work of wrapping the enemy up so he wouldn’t harm anyone else.

As an added measure, he ripped the arrow haphazardly out of the guy’s shoulder, earning himself a strangled yelp of pain that was _well worth it_.

He considered giving the guy a real piece of his mind, but the soft watery sound of someone crying caught Clint’s attention and he quickly forgot the shooter in loo of moving to Tommy’s side. He moved to kneeling in front of the boy, his hands held out so that Tommy wouldn’t get startled by them. “Hey, Speed… Speed…. Tommy, kid, listen. You’re alright. Take deeper breaths. It’s Clint, alright? You’re alright. Do you know where you are?”

“B-Billy,” Tommy croaked, staring right through Clint as if he was having trouble seeing the man right in front of him.

“Shh. You’re with Clint, remember? _Clint_. _Hawkeye_. Sharp-shooting asshole who makes you eat and sleep regularly like the jerk that I am – Remember? You’re out on a mission with me, right now.” Tommy gave a few confused blinks, trying to come to terms with what was being said to him. Clint moved a little closer, keeping his voice soft and encouraging. “I’m gonna look you over to make sure you’re not hurt, alright? Is it alright if I touch you?”

For a moment, Tommy didn’t respond and Clint was about to ask again, but then he gave a minute nod, still kinda looking unsure and distant. Slowly, Clint brought his hands up to Tommy’s face, carefully maneuvering him to get a full assessment of his condition. Finding nothing that wouldn’t heal with warm water and a little _Neosporin_ , Clint went to go pull away. Tommy grabbed on his arm, keeping him from going to far. He pitched forward.

Clint let the kid bury his face in his shirt, arms awkwardly coming to hold the speedster’s frame as he squeezed the life out of the old archer with a death grip around his middle. There was a wet patch forming in his shirt and the kid was beginning to vibrate slightly like he sometimes did when he was really upset or scared, but Clint ignored all that, focusing instead on murmuring soft reassurances joke into Tommy’s stark white hair. If he occasionally offered the stupid joke or a nervous laugh as well, he would have to be forgiven for it. This situation was pretty stressful for him as well and he didn’t really know how to process it besides making it into a comedy.

It didn’t take much longer for Steve and Kate to reach them, the younger opening her mouth as if to inquire about the state they were in, but Clint shook his head just enough to discourage her from doing so. Steve expression turned quickly to one of understanding and he directed Kate away with a hand on her shoulder, picking up the stray shooter on his way to wrap him up with the rest of the men Clint and Tommy had taken care of, earlier.

“He doesn’t look good,” Kate noted as Steve tied up the shooter, looking over the top of her sunglasses at the two forms still huddled together several feet away.

“We’re almost done, here,” Steve assured her, “As soon as Hulkling and Iron Man confirm their status, we can start hauling these guys back to the carrier and move on.” Kate nodded, accepting the answer. She pushed her glasses back up on her face and turned away from her friend and the Avenger she shared a name with, giving them a little semblance of privacy. She instead began to focus on the doodles done on the faces of some of the captives in red sharpie. She assumed it must have been Tommy’s work.

One in particular had her actually snorting, bringing a hand over her mouth to hide the smile she couldn’t help. When Steve looked at her with an inquisitive eyebrow raised, she pointed out the drawing to him. The resigned sigh that left him and the way he went to rub his temple just had Kate cracking up, further.

“I told you he’d love it,” Clint whispered into Tommy’s hair, a small smile at the watery chuckle he got in return. There was another beat of silence before Tommy said something, almost too quiet to be audible. 

“Thanks...”

Clint’s fingers curled a little more protectively into the fabric of Tommy’s suit. This speedster was gonna be the death of him. “Yeah… Don’t sweat it, Kid.”


End file.
